I feel you.
Broad branches,
Tough bark.
Potentially a sculpture,
Or page,
Or foundation.
You were always beautiful

Never as verbose,
Frankly couldn’t get close
But lord knows one’d yearn to try.

Tree bark wrinkles,
Decorating the curves;
Leaves vained and beginning to dry.

Throwing feet down a path;
Faux catches in photograph,
Pondered properly, one’d silently cry.

Your namesake echos;
You’d never accept nor believe,
But lord knows I’d yearn to try.

I’ll reach to you
When the clock is right,
Which is twice a day
In this instance per lifetime.

I’ve swung and missed
Could’ve sworn you cared
I hope by February
It’s something else in the air

An unforeseen fact
You’re in love with an archer
Fourfold
What luck!

Is bubbly,
Beautiful,
More lore than the louvre.

Yet her eyes are sad,
And the tales she tells
Makes me think
About my therapist.

If you think of me
What you think

Caramel latte,
***** chai,
Smiley wrinkles that outline your eye.
I’m happy for you,
And the same me to I,
For all that we longed for, we never could buy.